


I Got One Hand In Your Pocket

by va1k7ri3



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brittany being hurt, Brittany just wants Santana, Crying, Cuddling, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Lots of tears, Parental Issues, Puck is a bro, Running Away, Santana Lopez Being a Jerk, Santana Lopez is confused about her feelings, Santana is hopelessly in love, Santana loves her but won't deal, Santana's not friends with Brittany in this one, Sleeping around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/va1k7ri3/pseuds/va1k7ri3
Summary: If Santana could just face up to the turmoil of feelings in her chest, maybe this mess would've been over sooner.But she doesn't like the feeling of falling in love, and she'll keep it down any chance she gets.If Brittany hadn't tripped into her life and made her feel like the best girl in the world, maybe she would've done a better job of it.
Relationships: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce, Santana Lopez/Noah Puckerman (bromance)
Kudos: 35





	I Got One Hand In Your Pocket

**Author's Note:**

> Never posted a work here before but here's this.
> 
> It took me three days and honestly I'm proud of it but please enjoy. I live for this ship and I love them both to death.  
> Also, Santana Lopez being all confused and Brittany helping her sort it out is like a drug for me. 
> 
> Santana doesn't have Brittany as a best friend in this one, didn't intend it that way but it happened.

Santana would never admit having feelings for any of her one night stands. Or her flings, for that matter. Growing up in a detached home did that to you: you picked up people that you needed, then discarded them when they were no longer of use to you.

She'd been like that for three years, snagging boys and girls left and right, publicizing the nights she had with boys, disguising the nights with girls because the last thing she needed was people finding out she was a damn lesbian. She'd figured out sophomore year when Kaitlyn McHaughton had kissed her on a dare under the bleachers after cheerleading practice.

But _Brittany_.

Brittany was unlike any other. Santana had been with a few other girls. Her body count was the second highest in the school and yet she never wanted to keep anyone for more than a week. But the way Brittany had her in pieces, the way Brittany had such a tight grasp on Santana's emotions, the way she'd just _slipped into Santana's life and taken over..._ that was enough to make Santana question everything she thought she knew about herself.

And she fucking hated it _._

Their first time was in the girl's locker room, Brittany pressing her against a cold metal bench. Between the heat above her and the cold below, she realized that she was not only enjoying it, she wasn't making any effort to rush herself. She was tangled in Brittany's arms with her hot breath on her neck, and Brittany leaving kisses down her collarbone. The buzz was nearly sickening.

Brittany had left her shaky legged and unable to speak, a first for Santana. Usually she was the one doing all the magic and leaving her partners alone somewhere. But with a quick kiss and a "I'll see you later, angel," Brittany was gone, leaving Santana on the locker room bench incredibly frustrated and realizing that the metal under her back had gone warm. She couldn't be falling in love. She hated the spinny feeling in her head, the giddy, light, butterflies in her stomach, and she wanted them gone.

So she went on a bender, calling up Puck and half the football team. She wanted to get rid of the warmth that rose in her chest every time Brittany walked into the choir room, the electric tingle she got when Brittany brushed past her in the hallways, the shivers down her spine that she tried so hard to ignore when Brittany looked at her, only two lockers away.

Vincent was alright, Mark was a little better, but no one could outdo Puck. He had the most experience of all the kids on the block - and he made sure to show it off.

They had been laying in bed next to each other, a tangle of warm bodies as the open window of her bedroom let cold wash over them.

"Do you love any of the people you hook up with?"

She hesitated for a moment. "No."

"So what? We just fly by for you. Another body another day?"

"You could say that," she said, sitting up.

"Why are you so curious?"

"Santana, half the school knows that you like girl on girl action. I think it's hot."

"You're a perv, Puckerman."

"Not really. Anyone who knows anything about sex knows girl-on-girl is hotter than anything else." He got up and began putting his clothes back on. "You're so detached though. There's no feeling to it."

"I have to be," she retorted. "Catching feelings is for the desperate low-ballers."

"Are you sure it's not vice versa?"

"What do you mean?"

"I see the way you look at Brittany," he said.

She whirled to face him. "How the fuck do you know and why the fuck do you care?"

Puck smirked and it took everything in Santana not to nail him with a slap right then and there. But she couldn't. Not when she had a stiff reputation to uphold.

"You'd think we'd get along," she said dryly. "Daddy issues and all."

"No shit," Puck laughed. "But here we are: fucking for fun. Don't get me wrong, you're good, but you're in love with Brittany. It doesn't take a crystal ball to see it."

"It was one night! I can't judge my feelings based on one night. It doesn't work like that."

"So you don't believe in love at first sight?"

Her stomach dropped, and she wanted to say no. But there was Brittany, working her up, making her fall apart in the right places, feeling like fireworks. Santana was a bitch, and an even better liar, but she couldn't convince herself to lie about Brittany of all people. So she just kept silent and pulled a shirt back on.

The next day at school, Brittany was sitting by her locker when Santana brushed past her.

"Wait, San," Brittany said, grabbing her arm.

"Meet me after school?"

"We have Glee club," she said quickly.

"After that," Brittany said.

"I can't," Santana said. "Cheer."

"You do that with me."

 _Fuck_. "Yeah, we can meet."

"Breadstix. I'm paying," Brittany said.

"Wait...no...not in public," Santana stuttered. "No, we can't do that. No no no. It was a one night thing, Brittany."

"Not for me. I talked to Lord Tubbington. He agrees."

"I don't want the whole school finding out I'm sleeping with women."

"We'll keep it on the down low," Brittany promised. "I can handle being slushied."

"I have a rep to uphold, Brittany," Santana spat. "I have a reputation of _not sleeping with women_ to uphold. I can't take that."

"Are you sure it's not worth the slushying?" Brittany was getting loud, attracting the attention of several other girls in the hallways. "Breadstix, tonight, 6pm. Think about it. Lord Tubbington would disapprove if you stood me up. Even if he is in a gang that sells meth."

Santana promised she would think about it...and didn't. She spent the next four classes in a panic, barely remembering the major cities of South America, and narrowly avoiding failing her calculus test. In Glee, Brittany watched her every move, smirking at her during her solo, then dancing out of the choir room with a gentle little skip and another wink before she disappeared entirely.

Santana chased her to the girl's locker room, sitting her down on the very bench where this whole nightmare had started.

"Brittany, sit down," she said. "Seriously."

"Okay, angel," Brittany replied, sidling right up to her.

"I just, um, just," Santana started. She hated the _fucking butterflies_ that were fluttering around in her chest. "Fuck."

"That's what we did the first time we were here," Brittany said.

"I can't go to Breadstix with you," she blurted, and the silence that filled the room was absolutely deafening. "I can't go, because I'm scared what people are going to say." _I'm scared that I'm falling in love with you._

"Why are you so scared? This isn't the Santana I know."

"Because you don't know me," she said. "You don't know that I have parents who are never home, and a brother who is more perfect than I will ever be, because he's straight so my parents can be proud of a girl he brings home. He's older than me, and perfect, and everything I'm not."

"Is that what you're scared of? I can handle it, San. I really can."

She was staring at her with her sparkling blue eyes, and Santana noted where her eyeliner had smudged just the tiniest bit and how intense her stare had become. She stared at the floor, trying to get away from the eyes that were boring holes in her, straight through her heart and into the locker behind her. "I can't, Brittany, I'm sorry."

And with that she got up and left. She could face Sue Sylvester's wrath for skipping practice, but not Brittany's pleading face.

The next day she found herself sick as a dog. Her throat ached beyond all get out and every time she stood up she wanted to fall right back over again. Somewhere in her delirium, she managed to figure out that the pounding noise was, in fact, someone knocking on the door and not just her being sick.

She tripped downstairs. It wasn't till she was nearly at the door that she realized she was lacking pants and managed to jam on some sweats she had initially left on the back of the chair to dry.

It was Brittany at the door. Or at least, that's what she thought. She couldn't tell because her eyesight was getting blurrier by the minute.

"Puck put you up to this, right," Santana mumbled, trying to support herself on the doorframe.

"Salty from the start," Brittany said, and Santana realized she would recognize that voice even in her sleep. "Actually, I came here of my own accord because you weren't at school, but yeah, Puck told me I should probably be the one to go."

"I'm going to get you sick."

"A unicorn blessed me just a minute ago, so I'm immune. You look like a mess."

"The feeling matches," Santana muttered. "Seriously, Brittany. Please just go home. Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"I told Principal Figgins a long story about my sickness and he sent me home early."

"What sickness?" She couldn't really tell, but she thought she could see Brittany smile.

Brittany's hand was suddenly pressed against her forehead, cool and refreshing and Santana found herself melting into her touch.

"You're burning up," Brittany said, and with that she led Santana back up to the bed.

The rest of the night Santana barely remembered. Just a lot of cold cloths on her forehead and soup being spoonfed to her between tossing and turning and almost throwing up. Every sound made her head ache and at some point she tried to get up to go to the bathroom herself and Brittany ended up having to walk her there and back.

She woke up the next morning in a pool of sweat, with something pressed behind her back and a pale arm draped over her midsection.

Oh _fuck._

She rolled over to find Brittany asleep behind her. She was snoring softly, a piece of her blonde hair floating up every time she took a breath. _Who's the angel now, Lopez?_ She shifted away from Brittany's arm.

"Your fever broke," Brittany mumbled.

"Yeah," Santana said, too tired to tell her to get out of her bed. "I'm gonna go shower."

"You're gonna leave me in this cold bed alone?"

"It is soaked with my sweat, you doofus," Santana giggled, and stopped. She had _giggled_. What else was Brittany going to make her do, sing a duet?

When she emerged from her shower, Brittany had stripped the sheets from her bed.

"I was gonna change the sheets for you, but I couldn't find my way out of your room," she said, balling up the sheets and shoving them into her laundry basket.

Santana just stood there in her towel, hair dripping on the floor.

"Why are you doing this?" Santana said abruptly.

"Because you're sick...and you didn't show up to school. You shouldn't be alone."

"I don't need your help. I don't need you, or Puck, or Sam or even little Hobbit hands helping me. I don't. I've done everything by myself for the last twelve years and I'll do it for the next however long I have to."

"That wasn't the tune you were singing last night when you practically threw up in my lap."

"That doesn't count. I'm fine now."

"Then I'll leave," Brittany said.

"Maybe you should," Santana said, and with that, Brittany grabbed her phone and her bag and left. Santana stood just inside the door, watching through the blinds as Brittany's beat up white Honda rolled away.

She turned around and burst into tears.

Fuck her feelings. Fuck her sadness, fuck her inability to contain it, fuck it all. She forced herself to dry her tears and get on with things.

Two weeks later, and Brittany still hadn't said a word to her. She'd swipe a glance at her if she had the chance, but if Brittany caught her staring she would look away. She could feel Brittany's gaze when she wasn't looking, burning into her from wherever she was sitting in the choir room.

Ever since she and Brittany had done it on that damn locker room bench, every other fling she'd had seemed insignificant and useless. She didn't even care for Puck, and Puck had her at breaking point faster than anyone else she knew.

Except _Brittany_.

She watched her make passes at other girls, offering to help with their homework, help their school campaign, join other clubs, _teach them to dance_. That one was the worst. She'd sneak to the dance studio to watch her through the window, watching as she pressed up against other girls and boys. Following the steps, back, forward, left, left, spin, drop. She knew the routine by heart faster than the other students, and she wasn't even in the class.

Santana flash-backed to the night she was sick, and how perfectly she fit next to Brittany, their bodies melding together. Brittany's arm draped across her. Brittany's breath on her neck. She glanced one last time at Brittany, her hands on the boy's hips as she dipped behind him, letting him spin out and fall into the arms of another girl.

"I wish that were me," she said, aloud, loud enough to catch Brittany's attention. The eye contact hurt worse than the throbbing in her chest, and she disappeared around the corner and flew home.

Just her luck. That week Mr. Schue had decided that another duet week was needed. He put their names in a hat.

"Santana, grab a slip."

She reached her hand in and unfolded the paper.

_Brittany._

Fan-fucking-tastic. She had to find a ballad to sing to the one person she didn't want to get closer to. She flung the paper to the floor and stalked out of the choir room. Every inch of her shook as she walked down the hall.

Mike came jogging out after her.

"Santana, hold on!"

"I can't fucking do this, Chang!" She told herself not to look behind her.

"You can't just run away from this. She loves you," Mike hissed.

"It's none of your business," she snapped.

"Just let me go!"

"Seriously, Lopez!"

"My parents ran away just fine! Maybe I should do the same."

"I talked to her, Santana. She wants more from you," Mike said breathlessly, finally catching up to her.

"Oh, so I'm guessing the whole Glee club has been let in on our private life! Way too keep it on the down low!" She was fuming now, dangerously close to spilling all her rage on Mike.

"She's talked to me, Santana. She doesn't understand why it was just a one night thing and why you guys can't be together more. She doesn't want anyone else, she wants _you_. Just talk to her, please."

"Fine!" Santana threw her hands up in disgust. "What do you want me to say?"

"Exactly how you feel."

Santana marched back into the choir room, still fuming, but feeling less like a churning potion. Brittany stood in front of her, holding the slip of paper.

"Hi," Santana said quietly.

Brittany didn't say anything to her, just looked at her with those hopeful eyes.

"You, me, Breadstix at 6. Lord Tubbington won't be disappointed."

A slow, tentative smile spread across Brittany's face. "You're on."

That night Santana sat at the table alone at Breadstix, cursing herself for doing this, but more angry at Mike for managing to make her go through with such bullshit. This was the perfect set up for anyone who wanted to see them as a couple to snap pictures. And then who knows where that would lead.

When she walked through the doors, Santana's breath hitched.

She was absolutely _stunning_.

Only in a simple pastel sweater and skinny jeans, but _stunning_.

"Hi," she said softly, sliding into the seat across from Santana.

"Hi there."

After they'd ordered, Santana picked at the breadsticks sitting on the table. "Um, I'm, sorry for exploding in the choir room," she said.

"It's okay, I guess. I was just worried. Are you okay?"

"I don't know," Santana shifted uncomfortably. They were now getting into feeling territory, and she'd sworn to herself that she wouldn't get into it. But Brittany looked just as nervous as she felt, and so she swallowed the lump and continued. "It's not you. It's not. I just can't handle my feelings. They're all over the place."

"Like glitter?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah, exactly. You kinda want them around, but it's annoying as fuck and you can't get rid of it completely. They kinda suck, and that's why I never talk about mine."

"But you should-"

"But I can't. They hurt and they're too much, and it's so much better to keep them under wraps and stay detached. That way you can bounce whenever. There's no emotional toll to yourself and you can just go."

"I don't think that's how it is for you at all. I think you're catching feelings, even if they're not for me, and you're refusing to acknowledge them as they are and for what they are."

Leave it to Brittany to hit the nail on the head. Santana went to respond, but the food arrived and she was momentarily distracted by the steaming pasta in front of her.

"I am acknowledging them!" she burst, once she finally remembered what they were talking about. "I'm dealing with them."

"Are you dealing or deflecting?"

Santana squirmed even more. "You know what, this was a mistake. I'm sorry." She left cash on the table and gathered her jacket. "I've gotta go. Sorry."

And with that she left, before Brittany could claw down her walls anymore than she already had. She was standing on the edge, precariously balanced right to the tipping point, and she didn't want to jump. She climbed in her car, and instead of home, she hit the highway and drove till she couldn't keep her eyes open. Then she got a room in a motel and crashed.

The next morning, her phone was pinging with notifications. Mostly from Puck, Mr. Schue, and Mike, but there were a few from Brittany.

"Did I do something wrong?" Santana read the text from Brittany aloud and flopped back on the bed. _No, Brittany, you did everything right and I'm just a stubborn bitch. A stubborn ass bitch who can't come to terms with the fact that you're the best thing she's ever had._

Even just with words, Brittany had made her fall apart. Walls came collapsing down on themselves, the floodgates were open. Santana hated not being in control of everything. She hated not having someone wrapped around her finger but being wrapped around someone else's.

Santana would never admit it to anyone else, but Brittany had her absolutely _whipped_. And she realized that parts of her even _liked it._

She spent the day in the next town over, ignoring calls and texts from everyone. She drowned her feelings in music, trying to stop the ache. Somewhere back in Lima Brittany was wondering what was wrong with her, and it was eating away at Santana.

Eventually, it got to the point where even the music wasn't enough. She drove her car to an overlook to watch the sunset. Her phone was in the back seat, turned off. She had Doritos in her lap, her go bag open on the passenger seat - she'd gotten used to packing one after she realized how many people's houses she fell asleep at - and she was on the verge of tears.

She knew it was cruel to Brittany to hold her at arms length, to keep her dancing, waiting for her to give in. Because she deserved better. She deserved someone who was everything Santana was not, and she couldn't live with that because all she wanted was Brittany. She wanted to be the one she curled up with at night, the one she came home to after work, the one she cried on when things were rough. Fuck it, she didn't only want to be, she needed to be. She wanted to be Brittany's and Brittany's only.

The sun had set, leaving her in the dark. She pushed the bag of Doritos off her lap. Turning her phone on, she checked her messages to find a message from Puck at the top.

_**Brittany's worried sick about you. Answer her calls.** _

She picked up the phone and dialed Puck. He picked up on the third ring.

"Santana! Where are you?"

"Shut it, Puckerman. I'm a town over. Don't come get me."

"Dude, Brittany's been in pieces. You have no idea what you're doing to her."

"I don't care," she snapped.

"You do, and you know it, Santana. You're not being honest with yourself and it's damaging both of you. You have feelings for her and you need to go deal with it."

Santana shook her head and swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"No, I-" she stopped, her voice breaking. "I do, Puck, I do, and I don't know what to do about it. I've fucked up my feelings and my social life and my sex life and everything in between. I'm so fucking stupid," she sobbed. "And now Brittany hates me, she's going to hate me, Puck, I don't know what to do."

"Take a deep breath. That's the first thing."

She took shuddery breaths - and broke down again.

"Cry a fucking storm," Puck said. "It helps."

When the sobbing slowed to hiccups, Puck started talking again.

She put him on speakerphone, setting him on the center console while she scrambled for tissues. Tear stained and dripping snot was not her idea of a good night, but, it hadn't been too good to begin with anyway.

"Now that you're all cried out, make sure you get some water, and then I want you to drive to Brittany's house and apologize to her. While you're at it, apologize to yourself. You're beating yourself up for things you can't control, and I know I'm a damn hypocrite for trying to tell you that but seriously. The action you girls are gonna get is going to be _hot._ "

"Oh shut up," she snuffled. "Thanks, Puckerman." Outside, rain began pelting down, drumming on the roof of her car.

"Anytime, Lopez. Go get your sweet lady kisses." She hung up on him and started her way back to Brittany's house. The clock read almost eleven, and she was going so slow. The roads were incredibly slick, and the rain was deafening.

Brittany, Brittany, Brittany. The girl had consumed her thoughts and she was, for the first time, okay with it. She still found herself crying, slow, steady, weeks of pent up emotions releasing themselves. Brittany had her wrapped around her finger, right where she suddenly found herself wanting to be. She wanted Brittany, and no one could tell her otherwise. The traffic lights passed in a blur, the wipers thumping on her windshield as she navigated the roads in the heavy rain. Soon she saw the familiar lights of Brittany's suburb.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath. Brittany's neighbor was having a house party and the road was blocked round the corner with cars. She parked several houses down and got out of the car, met immediately by pouring rain. On the walk to Brittany's house, only a couple blocks over, she got herself soaked, her hair dripping on her jacket and dress. _Thank god it hides the crying._

She walked up to Brittany's front door, and knocked, waited a couple minutes, and knocked again. The door stayed shut, and she turned around to leave.

Just then, the door swung open, and there stood Brittany. Her eyes were puffy, and she wore those unicorn pants that hilariously, Santana had bought on a whim for Glee club's annual white elephant last year.

"Britt..."

"San?"

"Umm...I don't know where to start, but..." Santana developed an interest in the floor. "I love you," she blurted. "I love you, and only you, and I would take a countless number of slushies to the face just to be with you. I want to be the person you come to with your troubles, the person you come to when you're happy, the person you make all your best memories with. I don't want to just be your fuck buddy. I want to be your girlfriend, and I don't want anyone else. I don't want Puck, I don't want the football team, I don't want Kaitlyn kissing me under the bleachers. I want to love you, _really_ love you, and I want to give that to you."

Brittany stood there in silence, again. Santana hugged her arms around herself, the rain around them still pounding down. Brittany couldn't help but think about how adorable she was, standing there in the dripping rain, offering herself.

"Damn it, Brittany, say something," Santana begged.

"I want you too," Brittany finally whispered, and she tripped out onto the front step to kiss Santana. "I want you, and only you. I want you for all your bitchiness and sass and your ability to keep your head on straight and getting your way. I want your bad nights and your good days, I want to hold your hand and hug you all the time. I want to stand on the roof and yell it. I want you, Santana Lopez, I want you like no other."

With that Santana found herself in Brittany's arms, tripping backwards into her house, kicking the door shut with her toes.

"Are you parents home?" she hissed as Brittany snuck a hand up her shirt.

"Nope," Brittany said between kisses. "Just shut up and kiss me, angel." She moved her kisses down Santana's jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone.

They made love that night, _really_ made love, slow and gentle, Brittany figuring out the workings of Santana like no other. She found out how to work her up and make her fall apart. She found out where to tease and what she did and didn't like, and what really got her going. Between the murmurings of I love you, and You are so damn beautiful, and Brittany kissing everywhere, Santana found herself melting under her touch.

And when she finally fell asleep, tangled in Brittany's arms, peppering kisses on her forehead and finally settling her head on her chest, she'd never felt more at home and perfectly, perfectly happy.

"Can we try this thing? Being girlfriends?" she whispered. Brittany was half asleep, but at that sound she woke up, a smile spreading across her face.

"Yeah, I think we can." She gave Santana one last kiss to the corner of her mouth before finally drifting off.


End file.
